The Lost One
by Cordria
Summary: For years, he's been locked away with nothing to do but stare at his fingers. Now cracks are starting to develop in his silver prison.
1. Sounds

_Edited 1/09_

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part One: Sounds

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My small cell is all I can ever remember. It's got thick, perfectly flat blue-white walls, floor, and ceiling, with nothing but two tiny windows along one wall to break the monotony. There is never any sound that enters into my prison – everything is perfectly, eerily silent.

I pace from one wall to the other, mumbling softly to myself to try to break the total stillness. One, two, four, five… Silver chains connect my wrists and ankles to the back wall of the cell, but they don't make a sound as they brush against each other or when they drag on the floor. It's almost like they don't really exist. I knew they do, though; I have spent uncountable days sitting in the corner of the cell, brushing my fingers over the cold, hard metal.

Normally I'm content to sit in the corner and wait for something to happen. Today… today something's different. My stomach's twisting on itself and my heart's beating faster than normal; my feet are restless and my eyes keep flickering around the cell like I'm expecting something new to be there.

The problem is that I can't remember ever seeing anything 'new'. In all of my existence, all there has ever been are the blue-white walls and the silver chains and the two incredibly small windows that show nothing but an endless abyss beyond my cell. The idea of there being something out there that I don't know about – things that I have never experienced in my tiny world – sets all my nerves on end.

The idea of something new coming into my small room is… terrifying.

My endless pacing hesitates for a moment and I slip over to the windows, gazing out into the complete blackness. A shiver runs down my spine at the sight of the nothingness, a tiny thread of fear streaking through my stomach. _Nothing_.

I turn away abruptly, rubbing my arms and letting my mind drift into the soothing pattern I'd discovered years earlier. One, two, four, five, three, two… As much as I fear the idea of there being something new and undiscovered out there, I dread the emptiness even more. It's a constant worry in the back of my mind. I can't drag myself away from wondering what will happen if the thick walls of my cell disappear, leaving me to exist in the pure nothing beyond.

I know what it's like to live without anything – nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing to smell – but the idea of being forced to exist in that abyss never fails to make all the hairs on my arms stand up. At least my cell is _something_.

I drop into a crouch and press my back against the wall, listening to my breath rasp loudly in my throat, wondering what this _thing_ is that I can feel coming. My eyes scan the cell, flickering over the soothing blue-white walls, my breath suddenly catching in my throat, my heart beating quickly in my chest.

But there isn't anything there. There's _never _anything there.

I'm all alone.

Breathing out harshly, I force myself to relax and settle into a more comfortable position on the wall. Nothing's going to come. My cell isn't going to fall apart and leave me to the blackness. I have all of eternity to sit in my cell and nothing will ever change.

For a few moments I hold perfectly still, my eyes closed, my thoughts silent. The idea that nothing is ever going to change is very soothing; my nerves slowly start to calm down. When my breathing finally falls into a trance-like, slow pattern, I let my eyes open and push my worries into the back of my mind. They're still there – but they're muted for the time being.

One, two, four, five, three, two, one, four… In the worry-free moment, my fingers start tapping gently against my leg and I glance down at them, watching them dance out an incredibly complex pattern. As the pattern unfolds, I start to hum softly and rock back and forth, enjoying the sensations of _touch_ and _sound_. In my little world there's nothing to touch but the walls and the chains; in my little world there aren't any sounds unless I create them myself.

Sometimes – especially when I'm lost in this pattern – I wonder if I'm crazy. Would a _normal_ person sit in a corner and hum to themselves and memorize an almost endless pattern of numbers? I never know. I've asked myself if I'm crazy a million and one times by this point and I've yet to come up with an answer. I've never met another person; I have no concept of what 'normal' means. Perhaps, if there even _are_ other people in their own tiny rooms somewhere in the abyss, they all do exactly what I do.

I just don't know. Maybe I'm crazy, maybe I'm normal. Maybe…

The room suddenly seems to shiver and I jump to my feet, my eyes wide, my breath catching painfully in my throat. My world has never done this before and my heart starts to beat wildly. Trembling, I search my cell for anything – _anything_ – dreading what I'd see, terrified that something would be happening.

For a moment I see nothing; everything is normal. Then I spot it: a tiny, miniscule crack in my smooth prison walls, scarcely an inch long.

Hesitatingly, I walk over to the small crack and run my fingers over the tiny bump, my heart slowly settling back into a normal pace. I can't tear my eyes off the almost unnoticeable crack, swallowing heavily. This is something _new_, something unexplainable… something to be feared. Licking my lips, I take a small step backwards, never letting my eyes leave the tiniest of defects in my wall.

Is this the first sign that my prison is finally falling to the nothing? Will the small crack grow and widen until my whole cell falls apart and I'm thrown into the endless blackness? Is this what will doom me to forever exist in an eternal abyss?

A tiny, terrified chuckle slips out of my mouth and I jump, startled at the sound of my own voice, retreating to the far corner of my cell. Unable to wrench my eyes away from the crack in my wall, my fingers start to tap against my leg, the movements tense and quick. One, two, four, five, three, two, one, four…

Nothing seems to help fight against the panic that is edging into me. My arms and legs are shaking uncontrollably and I have to pull them tightly against me to try to keep them still. My heart is pounding in my chest and my breathing is harsh and rapid. One, two, four, five…

It's not helping. The world starts to go black at the edges of my vision as I keep my eyes trained on the almost invisible crack. The thick, sturdy walls of my prison are crumbling.

I have no doubt that I'm about to die.

The room shivers again and a whispered scream of terror leaks out of my throat, my eyes slamming closed. I don't want to see any more. I don't need to look, I already know that the tiniest of cracks has just grown wider – the blackness is eating its way into my cell. Pressing my head against my knees hard enough to make stars sparkle behind my eyelids, I can't imagine anything more terrifying than what's happening to me right now. The end of the world as I know it is coming.

This is what I've been feeling all day, the thing I've known was coming. This has to be it.

Please make it stop, please make it never come again. I whimper a little, curled up in my ball, my whole body on edge as I wait for another one of the tremors to slip through my cell. This isn't what I want – I want it to stop. Please, someone… _anyone_… make it stop…

It doesn't. Another shiver slides through the room. Then another. And another. They're spaced out at almost perfect intervals and I start to anticipate them coming before they arrive, my body tensing and my breath catching inside of me. Each time the small quiver passes through the room I fear that it's the end… but the odd shivers never seem to affect me.

Finally, after dozens of these terrifying moments, I pull my head away from my knees and open my eyes, instantly searching out the crack in the opposite wall. In my mind I can see it – grown into a gaping hole that would swallow me and throw me into the nothingness where I would never be able to see or hear or feel every again.

But I can't find it. The shock makes the terror that had been sinking its teeth into me lose its grip. I blink and get to my feet, squinting as I carefully study the opposite wall, fearful of what I'd see but no longer lost to the panic I'd been feeling. A tiny shiver slides through the room but I barely notice it this time – I'm too intent on finding the crack that I'd convinced myself was growing.

My feet move, slowly carrying me across my cell, hesitating after each step to scan the wall and try to find the impossibly small defect in my perfect walls. It's not until my silver chains are almost stretched tight, my body most of the way across my cell, that I am finally close enough to see the crack.

It _has_ grown. It is now nearly the length of my finger… but still so thin that not even one of the hairs from my head would fit through it. One of my hands comes up to softly trace over the fracture as another tremor passes through my cell. I tense a little, but relax almost immediately after it's over. My eyes never leave the tiny crack – it didn't even grow in that last shiver.

What is this thing that has entered into my life? These shivers and this small crack… what does it mean? My heart is still beating too fast; my nerves are still standing on end. I don't like this – I don't like this at all.

One, two, four, five… my fingers tap against the wall as I think, trying to figure out what is going on around me. For all of my existence this had been all I'd ever known. Now though…

_What was that?_

I freeze, my heart stopping in my chest. Slowly, almost painfully, I tip my head to the side, my messy white hair dropping into my narrowed eyes, waiting. I thought… I thought… had I _heard_ something?

Just as another shiver races through my tiny cell, I hear it again. It's the softest of noises, almost unable to be heard, gone almost as quickly as it has come. But it's loud in my ears after an eternity of listening to nothing but my own heartbeat. The first sound to ever venture into my prison.

My eyes lock on the crack in my wall, my heart still refusing to beat, my lungs not breathing – I know instantly that the sound is coming through the crack. It is coming from the abyss… coming from the blackness…

I hear the sound for a third time and it finally shakes me out of my frozen state. I backpedal, tripping over the silver chains, and scramble away from the crack and the sounds coming through them. When my back slams into the opposite wall I'm forced to stop, my ears aching as they try to hear the terrifying sounds, my stomach churning.

The shivers… the sounds… it's all too much. This is _my_ prison, my cell… my whole _world_. It's falling down around me, changing…

Unable to catch my breath, unable to slow my racing heart, petrified at the way my cell is changing around me, I lose myself to the panic that is clawing at my mind. The world becomes fuzzy and then slips to black. Deep in the back of my mind I can feel the pattern running around in circles.

One, two, four, five, three, two, one, four…

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	2. Insanity

_HAPPY INTERNATIONAL ANGST DAY!_

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part Two: Insanity

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I'm up and moving again, walking slowing around in the largest circles my chains will let me. It's been so long since the end of the silence and the start of the noises that I don't even flinch anymore when the sounds reach my ears. They aren't anything recognizable – today is one of the days I remember what words are – these sounds are just strings of harsh sounds and smooth sounds and bubbling sounds. I like the bubbling sounds; they remind me of something I lost so long ago, not that I can remember what it was I lost.

I can't decide if I like the sounds. They are a welcome break from the long years of silence, but they are so very distracting. I haven't finished my pattern on my fingers since the sounds started. Each new sound makes me sit up and listen, pay attention, focused and wary. Soon, though, the sounds become something normal and I stop being startled when I hear them. They just sway through the background of my life.

One combination of sounds – one _word_, my mind informs me – slips through the cracks most often. For some reason the sounds cause a warm sensation in my stomach and a fluttery whisper in my mind. _Phantom_. Why am I drawn to the sounds? I'm not even sure what they mean. Perhaps the sounds mean freedom.

Quietly dropping back onto my heels, I wait for a moment as I contemplate my sanity again. I must be crazy today, I think. Now that I'm hearing things that do not belong to anyone, surely I can be insane. If only I could finally allow myself to lose my reason and my sanity, to just admit that I am nuts, I could be a bit happier, I think. The burden of having to stay sane would be off of me. In the end, though, I decide that I still don't know for sure. The safety of insanity stays beyond my outstretched fingertips.

Sighing quietly, I shake my head and drop the rest of the way to the ground, crossing my legs and closing my eyes, propping up my chin with an arm, just listening to the strange sounds. _Tu… om… ee… ss… ta… tr… ay…ks…_

Such a strange combination of sounds that I can't help but be drawn to, listening rapturously, half-loving and half-fearing what the noises mean. The noises are slipping through the widening cracks in my walls. Slowly my prison is breaking down and the rest of the world is being let inside. I'm not sure what I'll do when the day comes and my world falls completely apart. I understand, now, that it's coming – slowly but steadily. And I fear what is on the other side of my prison walls.

There is nothing out there I understand. There is nothing out there that I know I want. I want so desperately to be free of this prison and of the silence and of the loneliness and of the chains… but when I think about being free, I only want to be locked up again. Only fear accompanies my mind when it wanders towards thoughts of what I would do if I were out of the chains.

My chains. _My_ chains.

Such beautiful chains. I run my free hand over the sparkling silver metal with my eyes still closed, feeling the cold press into my fingers, touching the place where the chain runs straight into my leg. No cuff, no lock, no ring of silver to hold me in place; the chains are welded right to my bones. They are there to keep me in place. To keep me safe. To keep me locked away in my prison. To keep me from leaving.

I want to leave.

I want to stay.

And still the sounds echo through my tiny prison, breaking into my thoughts with their strangeness and their newness, scattering my mind into a million pieces with each sound. _I… ve… ou… am…_

I curl my fingers together tightly in frustration, unable to think, both loving and hating the sounds that have marred the timeless silence of my prison. Over and over I try to think, I try to understand what's going on, I try to decide if I want to be free or if I want to stay safely in my prison, and each time my thoughts are dashed against the jagged rocks of the sounds of the outside world. Tears prickle in my eyes before I finally give up, allowing myself to let it go and think about it later.

For now, I am trapped, safe, wishing to be gone from this prison and half-panicking over the idea of being free.

Against my cheek, I can feel my fingers tapping unconsciously to the beat of the sounds coming through. I lean into the feeling slightly, my heart slowing down it's frustrated pace at the gentle calming pattern. One, two, four, five, three, two, one, four…

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_Gotta go to work, will upload more when I get home. :D  
_


	3. Images

_HAPPY INTERNATIONAL ANGST DAY!_

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part Three: Images

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There are pictures outside my window today. I stand at the farthest reaches of my silver chains, gazing at the almost-clear images that are greeting my eyes. They move and swirl, never staying in the same place long enough. It's almost sickening to watch, the kaleidoscope of colors and movements and shapes. I would have been sick, except I'm not sure if I've eaten anything in the past few years. Instead, I content myself with being merely dizzy to the point of needing to sit down every few minutes.

As soon as the dizziness passes, I'm up again, straining against my chains, desperate for the views my eyes are taking in. Beautiful green things that move and bend, a giant blue background that stretches on for all of eternity, and actual other _people_.

I have trouble looking at the people through the windows. They look so strange to my eyes, move so carelessly, seem not to care that I'm locked away so close but yet so far away from them. A few look my way, but none ever seem to actually see me. They just smile at something and move their lips and…

The sounds come. _Da… co… pp… st…_ I've figured out that the strange sounds are coming from those other people, their voices, their words, and I know that someone is speaking even if I can't see them. The sounds are becoming ever so much clearer each time my prison shivers and shakes, the cracks growing ever larger. I'm finally able to realize that the sounds are all different – the tones and the notes and the volumes are unique for each person – but I'm still not sure I want to see the people. It's hard to see them when they don't see me back.

Images move beyond my curious eyes, bouncing slightly up and down, moving to the left and right, back and forth, always in that dizzying motion. Oh, how I wish that they would hold still for an eternity. No doubt I could spend the rest of my existence staring at just one of the images, much less all the ones I'm seeing. I want to make it stop, hold still, press the pause button…

What's a pause button? I look away, confused at the thought that has entered my mind. I'm somehow remembering something I've never seen before, never has known existed. A large box, a moving picture, a small controller with a pause button that makes the pictures stop. Where is that coming from? Why am I remembering such a thing?

My breath hitches in my throat at the unexpected development, the strange knowledge that has suddenly jumped into my mind, and my fingers instantly starting their calming tap against my leg. One, two, four, five, three, two… My eyes close, struggling to think calmly despite the sounds penetrating my prison. Go away, leave me alone, just let me sit here and be me and not think about weird things and let me be safe…

Finally my eyes open and I look back out the window, unable to keep my gaze away, enthralled by the displays, busily watching the world passing me by. I love the greens that I can see – every variance in shade causes a sparkle of happiness to course through me. Green is my favorite color of all. I haven't wondered how it is I know the names of the colors I'm seeing – my prison is nothing but silvers and grays and whites and blacks – and that is probably for the best. I just want to watch. Such a thing as wondering about colors would have sent me spiraling into something I couldn't handle.

I can see hands through the tiny windows and that fascinates me, fingers that are so like mine that hold things and touch things and play with things. Fingers that tap softly against walls and floors and tables. Fingers that, like mine, move constantly. Maybe I'm not so crazy after all.

One of the large, green objects I've taken a liking to – the word _tree _brushes up against my mind, but I push back fiercely, not wanting to know a word for something I've never seen before – is filling the windows. The tiny bits of green lodged up high in it move slightly back and forth, but everything is still, the picture having stopped its movement.

I'm pleased. I like the green; I like this thing I can see. I wish I could watch the little splashes – _leaves_ – wiggle forever. Crossing my legs, floating in midair, I prop my chin on my hands and content myself to stare, lovingly, at the beautiful green.

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	4. Nothing

_HAPPY INTERNATIONAL ANGST DAY! XD Don't you just hate short chapters? I'm doing it anyways, though. :p  
_

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part Four: Nothing

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The cracks are big enough to see through, I notice with a start of surprise not long after I saw my first tree. I could, if the chains were long enough, reach through the cracks in my prison walls with a few of my fingers and touch the blackness beyond. I can't, but I wonder what would happen if I ever could

The thought crosses my mind, not for the first time, that my prison is holding back the blackness for a reason. That it is keeping me safe from it… only my prison is breaking. Soon the blackness will be able to get in. A burst of fear makes me jerk my hand away from the crack, whimpering slightly, backing up a few steps before I can catch myself. True panic crushes me for a long moment and my whole body trembles, my mind caught up in the image of the blackness rushing through the cracks to swallow my soul whole. The blackness could kill me.

My hands are pressed tightly against my chest, my breathing harsh in my throat. Never before have I contemplated the idea of death. I've always assumed that my prison would continue for eternity, my body locked up, my mind curling around insanity for all of time. The idea of an end to that existence has never crossed my thoughts. For the first time, I fear for my soul.

I can't tear my burning eyes away from the largest of the cracks, even as my feet stumble backwards, my body coming to a stop in the dead center of my prison. From here, I can still see the blackness, shiny and shimmering and new and strange, waiting for me. It's poised, stealing my breath from my lungs, drilling into my mind, consuming my thoughts, ready to take my and do what it will.

Arms crushed against my chest, fingers tapping against my sides – one, two, four, five, three, two – as if the pattern will keep me safe. The noises I can take. The pictures I can revel in. But the blackness is to be feared. It is an instinctual reaction, born of nightmares and daydreams and the worst that my psyche can throw at me. Blackness, darkness, nothingness.

I don't know how long I stare, transfixed, at the nothingness beyond my prison walls. It could be minutes, but it could be days. Every time I try to look away, my eyes dart back instantly. Has the blackness moved? Has it started to seep through the cracks? Is it coming? The years of silence and aloneness are a breeding ground of paranoia and mental illness.

I know that the blackness is tipping me towards the insane side, but I can't help myself. I fear the blackness more than anything in my entire memory. I know, deep down, that when the sturdy wall of my prison collapses, I will be no more. My world will end.

The room shivers and I scream in blind terror, my eyes staring at the crack that has widened infinitesimally. Sudden images of monsters and creatures fill my mind as I wonder what's beyond the blackness. What's causing the shaking? Who's attacking my prison? I can't breathe for a few moments, my vision clouding and my ears ringing painfully.

Another shake, another scream, and I drop to the floor, curling up into a tight ball, my gaze unable to be wrenched away from the blackness. A third shiver in as many minutes has the blackness beginning to ooze into the room, breaking off into tiny bubbles of nothing that float towards the ceiling.

I can't breathe. I can't even scream.

My prison gives one final shiver and the wall cracks open entirely, the blackness flooding in and sweeping me up in a tidal wave of nothingness. My eyes go wide in terror for a split second, then all goes black.

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	5. Morning

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part Five: Morning

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My eyes open, heavy and sleepy, and for a moment I can't remember what has happened. But then it all rushes back to me – the noises and the pictures and the cracks and the blackness and the tidal wave of nothingness. Jolting upright, my eyes wide with a moment of panic, I glance around my prison, looking for the blackness that had tried to swallow me whole.

The blackness is nowhere to be seen, but neither is my prison. Instead of the grey and white and black walls, there are blue ones, covered in colorful artwork – something out of a dream. Small objects dangle from the ceiling and _things_ litter the room in a crazy, comfortable chaos. Most strangely, I find, is what I'm sitting on. It's something I've never seen before; soft and covered in bolts of warm fabric. I run my hands over the soft material, curious and fighting down the fear that's rumbling in my stomach. Where am I? Where has the blackness gone? Where has it taken me? Where is the safety of my prison?

Turning my head, I find a window – but it is nothing like the two windows from my prison. This window is big and open, a cool bit of air blowing across my face, the dark green trees easily seen beyond it. Trees that hold still and don't bob and move in those distractingly dizzy ways. I smile, pushing myself to my knees to peer out into the dark, wishing the lights would come on I he could see the pretty trees better. There is a soft light in the distance, staining the darkness with oranges and reds, but it isn't enough for me to see the beautiful colors of the trees.

Then I see the blackness beyond the trees. It surrounds this strange place, hanging high in the air. Terror claws at me for a moment, my eyes widening, my fingers bunching in the soft fabrics. Keep it away! I want to scream in fear but I don't, my voice captured and taken by the blackness. Even though I'm caught in thick fingers of panic, I see something that makes me hesitate.

Up in the blackness are millions of tiny lights that glitter and shine. There is the blackness that stole my prison and put me here – and it is so very far away. Kept back, I decide almost instantly, by the shimmering lights. I grin in relief but keep a wary eye on the blackness as I stare out the window, my mind imagining it struggling to get back to me but being trapped.

A most wondrous thing happens as time passes: the strange light in the distance grows more brightly, burning away the blackness that stalks me. The tiny lights seem to notice and disappear as well, letting the big light take over. _Sun_ whispers through my mind but I shake my head, unwilling to accept the strange word. It doesn't take long at all before the blackness is completely banished from the world and I take a deep breath. What a fantastic place I've found, so full of light and color and stillness. It's almost peaceful and it brings a rare smile to my face.

My mind questions how I've gotten here as I wait, chin resting on my hands, watching the large light rising into the air and bringing the greens back into the trees. The blackness has brought me here, no doubt about that; it swallowed me and spit me out again. But why here? Why in this wondrously scary place? Why not back in my prison with my silver chains and my windows and my silence?

I chew my lip as thoughts stroke through me. This place, with all its wonderful, strange things… I have no idea what is about to happen and that causes tiny fingers of fear to curl in my stomach. Why can't I be back in my prison where I am safe?

A strange feeling tickles through my mind and I freeze, twisting my head to look around the room. Something warm and fizzy is growing stronger in the back of my mind, and I can hear more sounds. My breath catches in my throat, fear jumping to the forefront at this new thing. I'd be safe in my cell; what is coming? Is it the monsters that lurked beyond the blackness? What will they do to me? The rhythmic, soft sounds echo slightly as I tremble, wishing for them to go away. Isn't it enough that I've found myself in such a strange world? Do I need more things to worry about?

The loudest sound I have ever heard suddenly bangs through the room and I jump, a shriek of panic dying in my throat. "Danny, get up!" a voice yells. Terrified, I throw myself backwards and off the soft sheets of fabric, tumbling to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Then something new happens. A curious, feathery sensation riffles through me and I feel almost like I'm being pushed out of the way. Astonished, unable to comprehend what is happening, I just sit perfectly still as my mouth moves all on its own. "Okay, okay, I'm up Jazz."

The feathery thing is still pressing against me and I take another step away from it, scared. Curiosity tangles through the downy presence inside me as my eyes – ones I'm not moving – scan the ground all on their own, taking in where I've landed. _Why am I on the floor?_ The odd voice, not really heard but definitely real, makes me jump and curl up into a smaller ball in my mind.

As my body moves, standing and walking around, collecting objects – _clothes_ – I close my eyes and curl my arms around my head and try to imagine myself back in my comforting prison where there is no feathers, no movement, no sensations, none of this touching things I'm not telling my body to touch. I curl up tighter and tighter, feeling the silver chains back at my ankles and wrists.

Then, to my amazement, everything goes silence and still and peaceful. No blackness, no fear, nothing new. And I can finally get some sleep.

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_Thanks to CatalystOfTheSoul, ShadowLord9, Thunderstorm101, werewolf5, TexasDreamer01, swordbunny4486, Invader Johnny, skitzofrenic, Kiomori, Anne Camp aka Obi Quiet, iLoVeMoOnYnPaDfOoT, MaxRideNut, Forget and Forgive, Mary Blondine, inukagome15, Silver Child of the Sea, Amazing Blue, TexasDreamer01, Rahne-Aamar_, _and Nylah for reviewing so far!_


	6. Feathers

_Two chapters uploaded today - you missed one._

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part Six: Feathers

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It took a while, but I think this new situation isn't too much different from watching through the windows of my prison. I can sit back in my head and the feathery presence controls everything. I can hear the sounds so much better, I can see much more clearly, and now I can feel and smell things as well. If taken in small doses, it's actually kind of interesting. I've started to enjoy peering out of my eyes to see the world for a few brief moments now and then.

It's amazing all of the sights I've seen over the past few days. Sometimes my body, under the direction of the feathers, is sitting in large spaces full of other people. Sometimes it's sitting in smaller places with only a few people. Sometimes it's by itself. And sometimes, every now and then, the feathery presence isn't there at all.

This happens at dark when, I think, the feathers are asleep, giving me free reign to control my body. I'm not fond of this darkness, this _night_, because the blackness is so close. It hovers around me, making me nervous, forcing me to sit and stare out the window until the light comes to send it away. But this night I find something new. It is called a _light switch_ and it makes the light in this small room turn on and banish the blackness.

I sit here, surrounded by light, and explore the small room. I hold things in my hands, searching for the names of the objects in my head. For some reason, I know these things, although I have never seen them before. _Rocket ships_ and _space shuttles_ and _astronauts_ and many other interesting things to touch and hold.

I am almost getting used to this new world I have found myself in. Being locked in a corner of my mind most of the time is almost like being in my prison – it is comforting, in a weird way. But I'm coming to enjoy this time when I am in control of my own body when there are no other people and no other things and I get to learn.

When light fills the window, _morning_ arrives, the feathery presence stirs in my head and I back away, allowing the feathers to control my body for the day, closing my own eyes for a nap. I have had enough of this world for now – I need time to sit back and process all that I've seen and done.

When I open my eyes next, I can see trees out of the corner of my eye. There are people around – those people that seem to look at me but never really see me – and I'm not fond of them. I want to look at the trees some more, I like trees. Unfortunately my eyes are always trained on the people; specifically the one with dark hair, black clothes, and purple eyes. It's kind of frustrating that I can't look at what I want to. It's my body, after all. But I allow the feathers to be in control.

"Should we go back to my house?" I can feel my mouth move, my throat rumble as the words come out unbidden. I shake my head, locked away behind the feathers, silver chains running to my wrists and ankles, not wanting to leave. The trees I can see are very calming for me and I'd rather stay here at the _park_.

"Sure," the violet-eyed person says, a smile on her face. "Monster movie B-rated flick marathon?"

My body laughs, but I don't understand what she has said. What is a flick marathon? I wait in the corner of my mind, confused, hoping that it's something that can be done around the pretty green trees. "What else is there to do on a Friday?" my mouth asks.

"Eat Nasty Burgers!" another voice chimes in and my body is jostled, a hand slapping me on the back. I flinch, closing my eyes for a moment, fighting back a moment of fear before I open my eyes again. I'm perfectly safe here in the corner of my mind. Nobody can harm me; all I am doing is watching.

"I'd rather dissect frogs," the violet-eyed person shoots back.

I blink a moment, wondering what a _frog_ is, then suddenly I know. I hunch my shoulders a little at the strange burst of information and the odd image that has jumped unbidden into my mind, but I try to take a deep breath and calm down. Nobody knows I'm here. It's just like in my prison… only without the walls. I'm fine.

But when my body starts to head away from the trees, I balk. I'm not sure what caused it, up until this point I was fine with letting the feathers control my body. For the first time, I reach out and brush past the soft feathers, halting my body's progress. _I want to stay, _I declare, my real eyes searching out the strange green trees and the bushes and the flowers that I wanted to see.

The presence in my mind has frozen and I can feel it looking at me. _What…?_ I feel a blast of confusion and fear coming from the feathers, then a painful pressure as it tries to take control back of my body. For a second more I fight, but then I give up and huddle in my corner.

"What was that?" my body whispers.

"Danny? You okay?" the violet-eyed person calls from up ahead.

I feel a moment of panic at the thought of the feathers telling the others that I am here. I am only safe in my secrecy. _Don't tell them!_ I plead silently, jumping forwards to touch the other presence in my mind. I don't really knowing what I'm doing, I just press all of my fear and terror towards the feathers, letting it see that I mean it no harm. I can't harm it, I doesn't know how.

"Danny?"

Finally, I feel my head move up and down. "Yup." But the feathery presence isn't smiling. It's staring at me, knowing I'm there, not very happy about it, and wondering why it's lying to its friends. _Who are you?_

I tap my fingers in my mind, unaware that my body is unconsciously following along. One, two, four, five, three, two, one, four… _I don't know._

_What's your name?_ The feathers press in closer, stilling my tapping hands with its powerful mental grasp. I realize that it's worried about being possessed – it's been possessed before. Why I know this, I'm not sure, but I'm positive I'm right.

I've never had a name before, so how am I ever going to answer the question? I really should, since the other presence is lying for me. I blink my burning green eyes a few times and run a hand through my wild silver hair. Then I remember the first sounds I ever heard and how they still cause a warm feeling in my stomach.

I'm not sure it's a name, but I'm going to go for it.

_Phantom._

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	7. Danny

_Wasn't going to upload in November due to NaNoWriMo... but I'm too sick to remember that. Sorry it's short.  
_

**The Lost One  
**A Danny Phantom FanFiction by Cordria

Part Seven: Danny

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"Who are you?" my body whispers again, still unable to understand what I'm saying.

I tug at the silvery chains bound to my wrists and shake my head, trying to come up with a new way to answer the feathery presence's question. I would rather have it leave me alone; I'm really regretting letting it know that I exist. I could have curled up into a little ball and waited for the night to come again rather than speak up. _I am me._

My eyes roll without my direction, but there is a hint of fear in the action. The presence – it thinks its name is Danny – doesn't like that I am here and it _really_ doesn't like that it has sent its friends away. "That's not much of an answer."

I shrug, unable to tell it that I don't have any better of an answer to give. My fingers tap softly against the chains – one, two, four, five, three, two, one, four – and I wait for another question, I know that Danny has a million of them. I can feel them, behind the feathers. I wish he would ask them so that I could vanish again.

"Why are you in my head?"

_It's my head_, I answer back stubbornly, brushing past the feathery barrier and taking back control of my hand to prove my point. Reaching down, I pluck a few blades of grass from the park and twirl them between my fingers. I can feel Danny's confusion and fear for a moment before I retreat back into the safety of the corner of my mind, pull my legs up against my chest, and hug them tightly against me. Rocking a little in my self-created prison, I wait.

My teeth grind a little, then my mouth moves. "Why are you so scared?"

That makes me stop rocking and sit up. Of course I'm scared: this world is something new that I've never seen before. There is nothing safe or secure and the blackness is always hiding around the corner. The thought of the blackness and what it has done to me makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. This whole situation is _because_ of the blackness.

"What is the blackness?" Danny's presence touches against mine almost gently, but I yank backwards and curl up a little tighter.

_I didn't tell you about that! _I snap at it, terror sparking at the thought of it knowing things about me I hadn't ever said. _Stay out of my thoughts._

_I saw it…_ This time the feathery presence doesn't bother to move my mouth, it just speaks with that strange not-quite-real voice. The fear and the wariness are still there, but I can also feel a tiny bit of concern beyond the feathers. _Who are you?_

I scream in frustration and fear, clenching my fingers in my hair, feeling the comforting cool weight of the chains at my wrists brushing against my face. I've had enough of this other presence in my mind. I want him to go away and leave me alone now. _I am me! Go away!_

It brushes up against me again and I lash out at it, pushing fiercely when it comes too close. _What happened to you?_ Danny asks, startled by something.

_Shut up!_ I scream at it, closing my eyes tightly and pressing my hands over my ears, wondering and fearing what it might have seen. Did it see my prison? Did it see the Before? I know that there is the Before, but I don't know what happened during it. Could it have seen something? _Leave me alone, just go away, I want to be alone…_

"Phantom," my mouth breaths and I shudder, wrapping my arms closer to myself.

_Leave me alone, please, leave me alone. I just want to be alone, please._ The feathers brush against me for a second before retreating. Curled up in a corner of my mind, I block out the world, leaving only room in my mind for the pattern. One, two, four, five, three, two, one, four…

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